Golden
by Fantasyne-Writes
Summary: The rumors about the Dragonborn make him out to be Skyrim's golden man, a perfect knight, a charming paladin. And he did his best to live up to that, too. But nothing is ever good enough. Dragonborn, contains original characters, slightly canon divergent. M for gore and mild sexual content.


_**Golden**_

 **Chapter One**

The dragon scream broke the guard out of his slumber. His head bobbed and he looked around hazily, his eyes still adjusting to the gentle orange light of the dawn. He reached up and pushed the visor of his helmet up, rubbing his eyes.

The dragon shrieked again and the man's muscles tensed, causing him to snap to his feet. His hand flicked to his sword hilt and he turned, running down the spiral stairs. His boots echoed against the stone, filling his ears, and he halted in the doorway. His lungs tightened, and he felt his shoulders tighten.

A golden-colored dragon let out a small breath, turning its head to look at him. It moved, letting the smoke curl from its nostrils, and began to crawl towards him. He froze, seeing the crimson-stained mouth and teeth, watching some torn flesh dangle from the corner of its jaws. Its tail swung back and forth, and the guard could only watch as it prepared to spring.

Then, as if the gods had taken pity on him, an arrow pierced through the air, hitting the dragon straight in its left eye. It sprung back, flapping its wings and spraying fire. As it lifted itself into the air, the guard turned to find the source of the arrow to see a man slowly putting his bow away. He began to walk closer to the tower, drawing an ax and shield.

"You're…" The guard sputtered. He had heard stories of this man before, from the guards who had killed the first dragon in centuries.

"Pardon," he called, his platinum blond hair settling around his shoulders. He smiled at the guard. "You should probably head back inside. This one is rather young, I can probably take her."

Before he could respond, the dragon dove, fire spreading over the tundra grass and aiming for the blond-haired Nord. He rolled and lifted his shield, letting the fire flow down around him. The dragon attempted to drop on top of him, but he ducked out of the way and slashed his ax over the dragon's snout.

It recoiled and then snapped at him, turning the fight into a terrifying dance. The Nord stepped, bobbed, and weaved, dodging the dragon's more panicked and impulsive attacks. The dragon then lifted its head, spreading its jaws, and immediately got its throat slit. The Nord dipped out of the way as the dragon collapsed, ribs rising heavily.

Replacing his weapons, the man walked around the dying dragon, stopping to rest a gentle hand below its eye. His face softened, and he gently stroked the scales before the giant went still. He closed his eyes when the soul lifted and swirled into him, feeling her eagerness and her disappointment at having been bested. Still, she didn't fight and soon, she was a part of him.

" _Dragonborn_ ," breathed the guard, and Aloek opened his eyes. .

"Apologies for the rude greeting," he said. "It was urgent. She was getting ready to spring."

"That was… and you just… you didn't even summon the Thu'um," the guard said, aghast. "How…?"

"Oh. Well… once you're around them, you start to understand how they move, where they are likely to strike. Almost like fencing, but with fire and fangs. Shouting is flashy, sure, but a decent sword arm or aim can bring them down just the same."

Aloek flashed another smile as he stood up. The dragon skeleton was smaller than he was used to, but he supposed that would only make the pickings from it last a shorter time. With a wave to the guard, who gave a small shake of his head in return, Aloek turned to find Allie.

The black mare was disgruntled at him for leaving her behind a rock, and nipped at his hands when he reached for the reigns.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "But you're no good at fighting dragons. I still remember last time, Allie."

He climbed into the saddle, avoiding the bandage on her back leg, and spurred her into a slow canter along the road. She whinnied, clearly unhappy with the pace, but complied with little more resistance. Aloek patted her neck, looking out over the golden tinged mountains, the colors dancing like they were begging to be painted.

* * *

"Student at the college of Winterhold," he said to Allie, who flicked her ears. "What do you think she needs me for?"

Allie snorted at him, and he almost followed suit. A student studying powerful magic needing a man with a subpar understanding of restoration at best. The world always did love playing tricks on him.

"Maybe she wants to study me," he joked. "She'll keep me in her lab and ask me to shout until my voice gives out."

Allie tossed her head and Aloek settled back. He supposed he would figure it out, and he had some friends in Winterhold who could save him if she really did try to keep him in a lab. Somehow, though, he had a feeling that wasn't what she was looking for.

In her letter, she had addressed him as "Aloek Snow-Healer." Not "Dragonborn." Not "Thane of Whiterun." Just his name, written in script that was entirely too fancy for him. He didn't remember the last time he received a personal letter that had his name printed.

The rest of the letter simply explained who she was, and asked him to stop by the college when he had the chance. There was also a small bribe in the letter ( _I swear, it will be worth every second of your time_ ), but that was hardly important. By the way she wrote he guessed that she was ltmer, with a slight tinge of impatience spicing every line and a signature so curly and fancy, he was convinced she'd hired an artist just to put it on the page.

"Jeriela," he said, searching his memories for anyone with a name close to that one. Nothing stood out, and he patted Allie's neck in defeat.

"Let's go and meet her," he muttered just loud enough for the mare to hear, and she nickered in agreement.


End file.
